THIS BLOG HAS MOVED!! INTRODUCING…CHRITICAL MASS

12 Jul

I HAVE CHANGED THE LOOK AND NAME OF THIS BLOG. I MOVED ALL OF THE CONTENT TO THE NEW SITE AND WILL NO LONGER BE UPDATING THIS ONE.

COME AND CHECK OUT THE NEW SITE: CHRITICAL MASS

http://chriticalmass.wordpress.com

thanks!

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Demand

6 May

Mustaches, A PSA

18 Apr

is it REALLY though?

Year after year in the U.S., this once-clear green light for gay men, originally reclaimed from Gilded-Age gentlemen and greasy 1920’s Venice Beach muscle men, has been unfairly and inexplicably re-reclaimed by today’s gangly urban hipsters who are neither Mexican rancheros nor Italian immigrant stereotypes. Sadly, in today’s world, once every minute a gay man sees another man with a big, bushy handlebar mustache in a neon tank-top riding a bicycle and for the first time in history, just isn’t sure.

Some of these mustache usurpers have traveled to small towns and sarcastically entered mustache competitions and even won third, maybe fourth place.

Unfortunately, the assault of big, bushy handlebar mustaches doesn’t end here. What began as a dare in a San Francisco Mission District dive bar has grown into a bristly epidemic. Like all hipster fashion trends, the unfathomable obsession with big, bushy mustaches has entered the mainstream via the usual channels: Urban Outfitters, American Apparel, as some sort of abstruse irony passing as humor.

The influx of t-shirts, trucker hats, and beer coozies featuring images of the big, bushy mustache has effectively obliterated and commodified this once-proud signifier of the gay community.

Stop the abuse.

*disclaimer: I am not actually gay, and have no actual authority with which to make statements on behalf of the gay community. This is just supposed to be funny.

Rudely Interrupted by Life…

2 Apr

As the demands of a little thing called Life threaten to discourage the daily post,  and unglue my eyes from the ever-blinking cursor, please know that I am in fact still alive, breathing, and gathering inspiration for the next round of cartoons, beer reviews, wordy assessments on things I encounter, and general silliness, so please standby.

Thank you,

Chris

Anarchy in the souffle

15 Mar

So this is what it has come to. The symbols of my youth rebellion, spontaneously, degradingly, almost mockingly etched into such a symbol of adult domesticity as this quarter cup measuring spoon. My kitchen utensils are taunting me with reminders of my punkhood as they are removed from the dishwasher. An almost perfect “circle A”. Dried detergent stain on aluminum.

Honesty

6 Mar

Oh Shit I Just Realized…

26 Feb

When we first got married, my wife and I decided to get a dog. Two years later, we decided that the dog needed a dog friend. Then five years later, we decided to have a baby. This progression of decision-making has all but ensured that our son will have two separate, horrifying traumatic losses before he is 8 years old. Nice going dad, you dick.

Our baby will be born sometime in May 2012. Rambo and Lucky, two soft, cuddly, furry animals will afford him hours of play, wet sloppy kisses, falling asleep together on the floor, and warm his innocent little heart, only to get old, smelly, and drop dead at the height of his relationship with them, leading to nightmares, sob attacks, and early onset of depression, or at least a premature existential stoicism usually reserved for marine veterans and that little boy from the Walking Dead.

"He did the right thing, shooting her like that. I would have done that too."

In order to avoid this situation, I suspect my best course of action will be to keep the animals in the house just long enough for him to learn the word “doggy” and then swiftly dispatch them, painlessly, before he can possibly develop any attachment to them.

Alternatively, I can attempt to educate him on the “circle of Life” with hours of repetitive, equally traumatizing viewings of The Lion King, The Neverending Story, and Old Yeller. My god, which is worse?

"ARTAAAAAX NOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

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